


when the sunflowers turn to you

by tronnor



Category: Video Blogging & YouTube RPF
Genre: Coming Out, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-15 12:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2228283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tronnor/pseuds/tronnor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>troye has never met his soulmate. he's okay with that, and then suddenly he's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. glitch

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not a fucking writer

Troye could sense that Tyler was uncomfortable, if his restless hands and downward glances were anything to go by. It was understandable, at the least; he knew that if he was in Tyler’s position, he’d be pretty uncomfortable, too. But Troye was getting antsy, and Tyler’s behavior was clawing at the walls of his brain and leaving him immeasurably irritated in a remarkably short amount of time.

He wasn’t gonna snap at him, and he wasn’t gonna scream. He wasn’t even going to reiterate what he had said earlier. The only thing he could do was continue what he had been saying in the hopes that Tyler understood and would maybe stop looking so guilty for something that wasn’t even his fault.

“You think it’s weird, don’t you? That I haven’t found my soulmate yet?” Troye placed his hands on his knees and  _gripped_. His jeans crinkled, and his eyes flittered down towards them for a small moment before looking again at Tyler’s anxious face.

Tyler’s eyebrows rose, and his lips half-curled in an almost sardonic smile, but Troye didn’t want to think about  _that_ , didn’t want to think about that coming from his  _best friend_. “Well, babe, you’re almost twenty.” He inhaled, and on his exhale he laughed, as if he was trying to dispel the taut energy in the room.  “It’s kind of weird that you haven’t found her yet.”

Troye released the death grip that he had on his jeans.  The buzzing energy in his chest had disappeared, and he knew why. The utterance of the word “ _her”_  – it left him feeling empty. Tyler was his best friend, he had been for two years, but he didn’t even know that Troye was gay. Even if he  _wasn’t_ , the name on his wrist – most likely – belonged to a man, and it always had and always would. No sexual orientation would change that.

“Him.”

“What?”

Troye closed his eyes. “I haven’t found – I haven’t found  _him_  yet.”

Tyler laughed, and that made Troye feel better, for a reason that he couldn’t quite decipher. “Oooh, girl, you’re missing out.”

“I know.” And Troye wished he hadn’t said that, and especially in such a dismal tone, because now he sounded pathetic and self-loathing and pitiful and those were things he never wanted to be associated with no matter what. Tyler was still smiling, and Troye was torn between relief and disappointment, because it was obvious that his best friend didn’t care. There should’ve been something wrong with that.

But the thing was, he  _did_ know that he was missing out. He knew very well. He could see it in the way that Tyler looked at Marcus. He could see it in the way the two men hugged as if no one else were in the room. He could see it in their secret smiles, in their glazed eyes, in their clasped hands. He saw it everywhere. It made him feel hollow.

Tyler appeared sympathetic for all of three seconds before standing up from his seat on the couch and walking into the next room. “We need to get ready, Troye-boy! If we’re late, Zoe’s gonna kill us.”

Suddenly Troye remembered what they had been doing before they had sat down to check their social media accounts and text Zoe for details. These had been last-minute dinner plans, and even though Troye hadn’t particularly felt like doing anything tonight, Tyler had been eager enough that Troye couldn’t say no.

All that he wanted to do was lie down on the living room floor and cry the night away. The plush carpet under his feet almost mocked him as he followed Tyler down the hall and into the bathroom.

Tyler didn’t seem to want to drop the subject, however, because as soon as Troye walked into the bathroom to get started on his hair, Tyler was chattering away at him.

“I always wondered why you had never introduced me to your soulmate, but I figured, you know, I wouldn’t  _ask_ , because I have a friend like that and he doesn’t really like mixing his personal life and social life. At first I thought it was kinda controlling, but, like, it’s none of my business and he said that she was okay with it anyway, so I don’t know.” Tyler ran his fingers through his quiff once, twice, three times, and Troye was glad for the pause in his rapid-fire words. "Troye, you know it's okay, right?"

And suddenly there was a suffocating pressure on Troye's lungs, because he  _knew_  it was okay, why wouldn't it be, but Tyler was implying that there could be a circumstance in which his situation is not okay, and even the possibility made Troye desperately want to cry. 

"Yeah, of course I do." And as an afterthought, "Thank you, Tyler." 

Tyler ran his fingers through his quiff once more before shrugging his shoulders. His fingers traveled to the almost imperceptible dark circles under his eyes and he sighed. "So, what does the name on your wrist say, you twink?"

"I'm not a twink!" Troye exclaimed, swatting Tyler's arm. Tyler cackled and sidestepped away, his smile lighting up his facing and making him seem as if he was glowing. Troye was envious of that. 

Troye was also envious of the cavalier way that Tyler showed off his wrist. Why wouldn't he be? ' _Marcus'_ was written on Tyler's wrist in neat black print. The name of his soulmate. The soulmate that he had found. _  
_

These marks were eternity. They couldn't be erased and they would never be replaced. 

Troye just wanted his to disappear.

It appeared that Troye's attempt at distracting Tyler had worked. The man with blue hair had forgotten the topic of discussion and was now pushing Troye out the bathroom door. "I have to take a shit! Use the bathroom upstairs."

Troye laughed lightly to himself and shook his head, his long legs taking him up each stair, one by one. As he entered the bathroom, he hit the light switch, illuminating maroon walls and fluffy white towels hanging on a bar across from the porcelain sink. Troye rummaged around in Tyler's hair-care basket before pulling out some product and carefully styling his quiff. His eyes flickered towards his left wrist, the pieces of blue cloth around it, concealing the name underneath it.

There was no doubt in his mind that the life that Tyler had just wasn't for him. There would be no soulmate for him. 

As the boys finished up and walked out the door, Troye wondered what his "soulmate" was doing at that moment. He wondered if the person whose name was scribbled on his wrist was happy. He wondered if they were dead.

He also wondered if maybe they were with their own soulmate. Maybe he was just an intruder on someone else's relationship. 

Maybe he was just a glitch in the system that couldn't be fixed.


	2. collision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this was something that troye had never anticipated. pretty strangers are dangerous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is unedited. it's two in the morning.  
> why is this so fast-paced why am i so impatient

Troye texted Zoe during the entire drive from Tyler’s house to the restaurant. She sent him a few jokingly deprecating texts, complaining about how late the two boys were, even though it wasn’t even five in the afternoon yet.  ( _It’s not my fault that you’re early, Zoe. I’m surprised you actually got Alfie out of the bathroom before five thirty._ )

 Alfie attempted to call Troye and yell at him for that one, but Troye ignored the call as soon as he felt the first vibrations of his phone. Tyler looked at him with a questioning look, but the younger boy just laughed and shook his head.

 A few minutes passed in comfortable silence, Tyler’s head bopping to a popular song on the radio. It was only when Troye felt an uncomfortable pressure in his bladder that he groaned loud enough to startle Tyler and cause the car to swerve a bit to the right. “Jesus fucking Christ, Troye!”

 Troye pressed a hand against his pelvis. “I didn’t pee at home and now I’m really regretting it.”

 “Oh my god, you idiot.” Tyler laughed in that hiccupping way that he does, and Troye whined at him. “Just free your willy when we get to the restaurant –”

 “Oh my  _god_ , I cannot believe that you just said that.”

 “ – but if you take longer than five minutes I’m gonna kick you in the ass.”

Tyler turned his head away from his best friend as they rounded the corner, turning into a parking lot and arriving at their destination. As soon as they were both out of the car and slamming the doors shut, Tyler was talking again. “I think Grace and Hannah had to stay at home, so it’s just the four of us? Wow, I didn’t ask Zoe. Maybe it’s a good thing that Marcus isn’t back from London yet.” Troye was about to ask why when Tyler said, “Now you won’t be a fifth wheel.”

Troye stopped walking altogether and leveled Tyler with an exasperated look.

“Oh my god, Troye, we don’t have time for your skinny-ass legs to not be walking!”

Troye rolled his eyes and pushed Tyler through the door, and they were greeted with the smell of fruit and a few loud cheers from somewhere off to their right.

Zoe and Alfie waved their hands in the air and called to them, and the other patrons in the restaurant – some weird vegan place, maybe? – gave them sour looks.

Tyler and Troye waved to the duo and made their way over to them, big smiles on their faces.

Zoe and Alfie were soulmates – rather cute ones at that – and they had grown up together, meeting in their first year of school and being attached at the hip ever since. It made Troye feel sick, and he hated himself so much in that moment for being anything other than happy for them. They truly were beautiful together. Troye wanted to be beautiful with someone, too.

They had a friend sitting next to them, someone Troye had never seen before, but he had a friendly face and stunning eyes that Troye was immediately endeared by.

"Hi! I'm Joey," he said, his voice loud and pleasant. Troye was a bit put off by the volume of his voice, but he decided that he liked him.

Joey and Troye shook hands, exchanging smiles. "I'm Troye, hi. Nice to meet you, but I really need to pee."

Which. You know. He should have assumed that he would embarrass the fuck out of himself within five seconds.

Troye made his way to the bathroom, silently berating himself for being "such an awkward idiot, Troye, you need to fucking stop." The restaurant was small and cute, flowers in small post in the center of each table and walls painted in a serene baby blue color. Troye thought bitterly about how maybe he was ruining the entire atmosphere of the building by being his awkward self and ruining everyone else's time, but consequently realized that it didn't fucking matter.

He was so caught up in his thoughts when he entered the bathroom that he didn't realize that someone else was trying to exit. As the door swung shut behind him, he collided with another body.

There seemed to be a flurry of motion in the next few seconds, as Troye fell backwards and landed on his remarkably bony bottom, and the person with whom he had collided clapped both of his hands to his chest and gasped, instantly plunging into a litany of apologies. 

"Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my  _god_. I am so so so sorry you have no idea. Oh my god. I didn't see you, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to, I just - oh my god."

Troye decided to spare this poor man any further word vomit by heaving himself of the ground and assuring him that everything was okay.

But as soon as he saw the man's face, he . . . he  _couldn't_.

All of his words were suddenly trapped in his throat. Troye was in a small bathroom within a small restaurant that he didn’t even know the name of and he had his eyes on the most beautiful man he’s ever seen.

He couldn’t even think about speaking right now. He didn’t have the mental capacity to wrap his mouth around a noise, let alone a full sentence.

And – and the beautiful man was still talking. “Oh my god, now you’re shirt’s all wet. I’m so sorry. This is completely my fault. Well, kind of. There were no more paper towels so I just –?” He looked down at his hands and sighed. “I, um. I guess I could have wiped them on my jeans, actually. I’m so sorry.” His eyes travelled up again to sheepishly meet Troye’s, and Troye felt his breath leave him in an unwavering _puff_ once again. “That is a cute shirt though.”

Troye looked down at his shirt, time feeling suspended as both his eyes and the strangers eyes gazed at the monochrome sunflowers adorning his torso. It was such a simple compliment, but Troye found it hard to breathe, and this all seemed irrational and he didn’t know what was going on and it _scared_ him, really scared him deep into his bones. He couldn’t even say a small ‘ _thank you’_.

The lack of response had them both widening their eyes. Troye couldn’t believe his rudeness, but he was really trying not to fuck this up with deep finality, but it looked like that’s what was going to happen anyway. And the stranger just . . .

“Oh wow, you probably hate me,” he said, his voice fast and high. He wiped his still damp hands on his pants and slowly edged around Troye to the door. “I’m sorry again. Just – sorry.” And with that he was pushing the door open and leaving.

Troye stood still for a few moments, not even allowing himself a breath. The stillness was shattered with an exclamation of, “Troye, you fucking _idiot_!”

This was just great. Nobody could have anticipated the level of absolute fuckery that was going through Troye’s head at the sight of a _stranger_. Someone he didn’t even _know_. He slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand half a dozen times before resigning himself to a quick wee.

He did his business and washed up, splashing some water across his face for good measure before realizing that _fuck_ , there really weren’t any paper towels, and this was one of those bathrooms that didn’t even have an air dryer. He quickly wiped his hands on his damp shirt and ignored the lingering embarrassment that pounded in his head.

He shouldered the bathroom door open and weaved his way between tables to get back to his own. He didn’t want to be here anymore and the strong smell of fruit and lettuce made him want to cry. He had no idea why Tyler would ever agree to eat here but it happened and that was obviously an awful decision.

As he rounded the corner, the only thing he expected was to sit down, eat, and enjoy the company of the friends that he didn’t get to see very often. That was the only possible outcome that he considered.

What Troye certainly _did not_ expect was the stranger from the bathroom to be in _his_ seat, at _his_ table, next to _his_ best friend.

And he was breathless once again.


	3. crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tyler wouldn't betray him like this, troye knows he wouldn't. but maybe it wouldn't be so awful if he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you listen closely you can hear the fucking sun rising as i finish this

Troye didn’t think he could feel any worse. He truly didn’t, honestly, because he had landed on his ass in front of a man with beautiful gems for eyes and now that man was sitting in Troye’s seat next to Tyler and staring up at him with such a blank look on his face and it made Troye want to dig a hole in the floor and flop into it like the awkward fish he was. So yeah, Troye didn’t think he could feel any worse than he did in this very moment.

Until, you know, the stranger from the bathroom started _laughing_.

Laughing, laughing right in front of Troye’s face and all of his friends, god, he could probably _feel_ the embarrassment emanating off of the blue-eyed boy in chaotic waves. This was the worst thing, without a doubt.

Troye stood there, of course. Just stood there, his face burning up, while the stranger laughed. The laugh only lasted for a small handful of seconds, but it didn’t _matter_ , not when every moment that Troye spent staring at his face felt like an eternity.

Tyler quickly stood up, confused but smiling anyway, and grabbed Troye’s wrist. “Babe, this is Connor, isn’t he cute? Sorry he’s in your s– Why is your shirt wet? Doesn’t matter. Anyway, introduce yourself, make friends, whatever.” Connor had taken it upon himself to stand up while Tyler was yapping away, staring expectantly at Troye with a small smile on his face. “Connor’s a friend, so he won’t bite. Sit between him and Joey.”

And this, this was okay. Troye was cool with this, but as he made his way to his seat, squeezing in between Joey and Connor, his heart was gripped by ice and panic swirled through his lungs.

There was a time in Troye’s life, during most of high school when he still lived in Australia, that he had been relentlessly bombarded with boys he didn’t want. This was the fault of his friend Caspar, to absolutely no one’s surprise, always “looking out for his best friend” as he was. Caspar would bring boys home all the time, boys from school, boys from the cinema, boys from the grocery store, boys from fucking soccer games, never letting up on his mission to find Troye’s soulmate. All of these boys, without fail, were named Connor. Of course they were. Caspar never settled for less than the best for the friend he held closest to his heart. Caspar wouldn’t accept that maybe Troye wasn’t meant to have a soulmate. Caspar looked at the name on his friend’s wrist and the broken look on his friend’s face and he decided that he would do all the work.

And Troye got sick of it. Troye was fucking _tired_ of never getting to spend time with his best friend, and he hated meeting new boys everyday and trying to wheedle out facts about their lives, trying to figure out if they had a soulmate, trying to get a peek at the name on their wrists.

The named ‘Connor’ always settled bitterly at the back of his throat, always simmered absently on his wrist, and there was simply no way around that anymore. That’s why he covered it up in an effort to pretend that it just wasn’t _there_.

Which is why, in this moment, he felt almost betrayed, wondering if Tyler somehow _saw_ his wrist, wondering if the pseudo-bracelets he wore somehow weren’t covering up the name of his soulmate.  Tyler wouldn’t be the type to try and set Troye up with a date, _would he?_

Troye’s inadvertent bout of panic was cooled down by nothing in particular as the dinner went on. Time passed, and as Tyler made no move to push Troye and Connor together, Troye’s mind was soothed.

There was no way this Connor could be _it_ , though. And that was because of one glaringly obvious fact.

“How’s Pre doing, Connor?” Tyler asked, mouth closing around a particularly large bite of salad. Troye had heard Tyler complaining about the lack of burritos on the menu of this restaurant, and he supposed that the blue-haired man was just trying to make the best of it.

“Pre? Oh, uh, she’s doing good.” Connor swallowed a slice of mandarin orange with a loud gulp and smiled at Tyler. “She got a job at that pet shop that I was telling you about.”

Tyler released a loud bark of excitement, clapping gleefully, and Troye glared at him with a whispered, “Shut the _fuck_ up, Ty, this is an _establishment_.”

“Oh my god, Troye, rude.” Tyler focused on Connor with sparkling eyes. “Does this mean you’re getting that dog now?”

Connor blinked. “Um, I don’t know, like, ‘cause we just got the apartment and everything, you know. I’m young and broke, Tyler.”

And Troye understood then, very clearly. Pre was Connor’s _soulmate_ , and that was obvious, should have been obvious, but for some reason there wasn’t enough sense in Troye’s head to last him past noon.

Another disappointment, then. Nothing new for him, but for some reason this seemed worse, more monumental. And that made no sense. It was probably just Troye being overdramatic. Again.

The best part about this – maybe the worst, actually – was that a soulmate didn’t prevent Troye from developing a crush.

Troye listened Connor wax poetic about cats, and he didn’t understand it, because the dude was supposedly setting his sights on buying a dog, but he couldn’t help but be hopelessly endeared. Troye himself loved dogs quite a lot; never really had much love for cats, and this was just. Well. It was weird.

He learned that Connor loved coffee and flowers, and that was actually pretty acceptable.

They hit it off pretty well, after Troye got over his initial hesitation. Troye stared at Connor’s lips a lot as he talked, and his eyes when they sparkled, and his cheeks when they blushed, but those were details, and Troye dutifully ignored the twisting in his tummy. They were new friends. They were platonic. It was cool.

Connor complimented Troye’s accent – _“You’re the one with the accent, Connor, don’t even try.”_ – and Troye felt his toes curl in delight. There were a few occurrences during dinner that Troye really couldn’t understand, though, mainly when Connor reached over to grab his hand in sympathy – why, he couldn’t recall – and held on a few seconds too long, and when Connor stared at him with a small smile every time that he laughed.

So that’s why when Troye and Tyler returned to the older man’s home, Troye was conflicted about the way he felt. His body was doing weird things that he frankly didn’t want to think about and he just wanted to go to bed in Tyler’s guest bedroom. That seemed like a great way to end the night.

He found himself, half an hour later, in bed and incredibly tired. He lay on his side, the light of his phone illuminating his face in blue. He messed about on Twitter for a while, but turned to Tumblr when nothing interesting was really going on. When that, as well, proved to be fruitless, he went to his contacts list and scrolled until he found Connor’s contact name, followed by the poop emoji. He deliberated on whether or not to send a text. He psyched himself up for it multiple times only to deflate and feel sorry for himself every single time without fail.

Things didn’t seem to be going smoothly, and Troye almost just placed his phone aside and went to sleep, but then he felt a small buzzing. He squinted at the screen and felt his heart jump into his throat when he saw who had texted him.

Connor was asking him to hang out. _Connor_.

This was. Wow. It was wow.

He replied almost too quickly, confirming, and when Connor replied with a simple smiley face, Troye dropped his phone on his chest and promptly fell asleep, a smile lighting up his face.

It was only eight o’clock in the evening, but that wasn’t really a problem. It just meant that he woke up early enough to draw an ass on Tyler’s face and anticipate his date-not-date with a devastatingly gorgeous man.


End file.
